I’m depression-tired. It’s different from regular tired. I didn’t wear out my body with activity or my mind with inputs. I’m tired in my soul. There’s an element of self-pity and petulance to the resurgence. “This? Again? Seriously? Not fair.”
"i want to rip the sun from the sky. i want to silence the songbirds. i want to destroy the bits and pieces of happiness that are floating around outside. i want it dark and cold and rainy, so that everyone can share in the mood i woke up with today."
"i went to bed for two hours this afternoon because it was the only thing i could think of doing that would stop me from eating everything in the kitchen and then throwing up. the urge has been growing significantly this past week, infecting everything i do and everything i think."
"i have been hanging out at a seventy percent mood for some time now and i’m pretty okay with that. i don’t wake up and embrace life, but i also don’t wake up and curse it. i fantasize about driving my car into k-rails less often. i’m starting to run out of shower gel again."
i'm balancing on the edge of a knife as i fight my #depression, and it's fatiguing.